


Safeguards and Shenanigans

by Argentum_Industires



Series: Critmas 2018 [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And the Traveler is laughing his ass off, Blude is having a heart attack, Gen, Jester is a menace, Marion is patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argentum_Industires/pseuds/Argentum_Industires
Summary: Jester's life of mischief started very early. To the consternation (and amusement) of everyone around her.





	Safeguards and Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stuff_and_nonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuff_and_nonsense/gifts).



> So, uh, I realised about 6 hours from the deadline that maybe I was only supposed to write one piece? Maybe not. I'm slightly confused. Anyway, I wrote more than one, and had fun doing it, so stuff_and_nonsense, here's your second Critmas piece.

The first time Jester sets a patron on fire, she really didn’t mean to.

She had simply wanted to see her momma sing, rather than hear the beautiful melody waft up the staircase all the way to her room. She wanted to see the _performance_ , the dress, the faces of the guests as they stood enraptured.

It was perfectly logical, then, for her to climb up on the rafters, scurrying past chambermaids and assistants, passing unobserved, as she always had been. At first, everything had gone perfectly. No one had noticed her sliding past, looked below hip level to find her little form scuttling around. No one saw the distortion in the shadows as she lay on the beams, legs swinging beneath her, chin propped up unto her hands.  Then her momma had gone behind the curtain, and she’d only ever heard whispers of this part, so naturally, Jester inched forward, trying to get a peek.

It wasn’t _her_ fault her still growing horns, sharp in their youth, caught on the rope of the secondary chandelier, causing it to sway, candles dropping below.

That’s exactly what she tells her momma three hours later, when they’re alone in her room. Marion looks less than pleased, her words of worry and reprimand for the stunt only slightly losing their edge in the soft embrace in which Jester is wrapped.

Blude joins the Lavish Chateau a week later.

\--

The first time Blude questions his new job, Jester is running across the rooftops around the Lavish Chateau, it’s night-time, and Marion is going to _kill him._

He had been warned that Jester could be a handful, and that it was imperative that she not be seen by the population at large, for all their sakes. What he had not been warned of was that Jester apparently had the strength and independence that one could only attribute to a soldier on a mission.

He could not understand how a ten year old had developed the upper body power to pull herself out of a window about twice her size and scale the side of the building to the roof. Especially within the three minutes he had taken to go to the kitchens for a glass of milk but, well, she had just leapt across a five foot gap and he was pretty sure he was going to have a heart attack.

It takes thirty minutes, several death defying leaps, and an infuriating number of giggles being thrown back his way until he finally catches and tucks the tiny, squirmy child under his arm. How he manages to sneak them both back in to the Chateau unseen is a whole other can of worms, but he finally sets her back down unto the floor of her bedroom, a stern word of warning and a solemn promise to never, ever tell Marion what happened his parting words.

He doesn’t see the flash of green as he closes the door.

\--

The first time the Traveler speaks to Jester, she’s stitching a dick onto an attendant’s dress.

It’s only a small one, in the interest of celerity and maximum concealment, and she’s working as quickly as she can in the small amount of time she has between Marion’s preparation and the first guests.

The second that the last stitch is tied, she feels a rush of warmth go through her, as if being embraced in a warm, soft hug. The words of praise are fleeting in her ear, and she feels the cloak of shadows envelop her as she runs up the second flight of stairs to her room. His blessing to her.

He speaks to her often, after that. He’s present in the back of the room, looking over her, his pride growing every day. He protects her as she pulls off shenanigans, laughing silently from his own plane. She talks to him almost constantly, telling him about her day, her thoughts, anything that may pass through her head. When she first begins drawing, he slyly adds small doodles in the margins, creating stories and tales for her to enjoy.

He never leaves.

\--

The last time Jester sees her mother, she’s being bundled in the back of a cart, bundled under layers of clothes and mercantile goods.

The rain beats down on her hood, drowning out any other sound. A blanket of protection around her escape, allowing her a cloak, a barrier from the rest of the world after the screams of noble indignation rung out across the city. The furious rage directed towards her for the first time, far too cold even for Marion’s protecting flame.

Her mother’s embrace is warm and far too fleeting, a desperate anchor to a life no longer her own, a whispered promise of meeting again. Of having to leave to be safe. It’s a promise of a brighter tomorrow in the face of a darker today.

She thinks about it every day. She brings that warmth to all she meets, first Fjord, then Beau, then the rest of the Nein. It keeps her strong when she’s in bonds, holds her fast even when the Traveler’s voice fades and wanes. It flickers and roars when she’s freed, when the voice comes back, when it holds true.

It’s just as soft when she feels it again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Kudos and Comments feed my soul


End file.
